


a little big problem

by alkhale



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Overstimulation, Pining, Romance, Sakusa doesn't realize he's already smitten, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26965498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkhale/pseuds/alkhale
Summary: He’s thinking, after all. He maps out Hinata’s body underneath him in case he can’t do it again. In case this all ends poorly and Sakusa’s left to fend and fight for what’s left. He feels every contour and dip and commits what it feels like to be with Hinata, to be in Hinata, surrounding and boxing and overwhelming every part of this young man who burns like his own miniature sun and have it all to himself.(Because Sakusa Kiyoomi has a problem, and it’s here, beneath him, around him, hands scorching up his back as Hinata tosses his head back and groans when he strokes that sensitive spot again, just right.)
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 348





	a little big problem

**Author's Note:**

> i know this isn't that good and it's just a quick little thing but hopefully y'all can enjoy it regardless, hahaha. I promise more for these two, I'm so soft for them and this pairing <3

Sakusa Kiyoomi has a problem he’s been thinking about lately. 

A big problem. 

He isn’t typically the kind of guy to have many issues either. He takes up personal issues with plenty of things, but they’re all mundane, minuscule, and only mildly bothersome in the grand scheme of it all. Small concerns that don’t cause a hindrance in his day-to-day aside from a ridiculous inconvenience.

The issue at hand is not one of those things.

It presents itself as a festering, growing issue. One that threatens to swell in size and envelop his days and send his fingers pulling one too many mask strings too hard, snapping the thin elastic in his fervor.

It’s a big problem in the size of a small one.

A small, bright,  _ orange  _ one.

(Because that’s all Hinata Shoyo is. Bright, orange, bumbling and small in the eyes of Sakusa Kiyoomi.)

That’s all he’s  _ supposed  _ to be.

Because people like Hinata Shoyo exist on a slightly different plane of being than people like Sakusa Kiyoomi, and he’s perfectly content with that. They orbit and gravitate in a sphere that sort of twinkles, he supposes. Twinkles and glimmers and burns and shines, not unlike a star.

Because Hinata has big eyes that take in the world and reflect anything people want right back—make them feel like they’re the only thing. And Sakusa on the other hand—he’s mastered the art of that shuttered look, of half-lidded, low gazes that only filter in what he wants or deems necessary.

The only time their axises combine, their orbits intermingle, is there on that stage—past layered nets and roaring crowds, across a glossy wooden court and the sharp smell of salonpas and everything else in between that makes volleyball what it is. 

(Sakusa’s content with that too.)

Because there’s an energy that emerges when Hinata stands on the same side of the net with him. There’s a pulsing hum that runs with fervor through the bodies around them and Sakusa feels it, low and quiet up to his fingertips. He likes it. It’s why he’s fine with Hinata on the team. It’s why he’s relatively fine with Hinata in general. If he has to rank the people on the MSBY Jackals in an order of tolerance, he admits Hinata ranks higher than most, but to be fair the competition isn’t intense either.

That energy runs through Sakusa’s fingers now though. It warms his fingertips, scalding them. He feels the calluses of his fingertips smooth over the heated flesh, the taut, coiled muscle and the shaky, shaky exhale of the body below him. Sakusa wants to keep his hand there, torn between resting it over the fluttering staccato of the heart pounding underneath him or pressed against the quivering, toned lower belly. Resting there so he can apply just the right pressure, just the right push when he cants his hips and presses forward and that voice beneath him hitches and he can almost  _ feel  _ himself inside him, inside him,  _ inside him _ —

Sakusa’s body shudders at the thought. A heat pools in his belly, lining up against his spine and driving him forward all over again.

“O-Omi…. _ san _ …” Hinata groans, rolling his head back, exposing the long column of his tanned neck. Sakusa’s lips part, tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he watches him through heavy lidded eyes, through the wavy, thick parts of his hair. “I…. you can…  _ urgh… _ ”

He thinks Hinata meant to say he could move faster. A part of Sakusa wants to too. He wants to tighten the grip on Hinata’s hips and hold his body, lean and toned yet so, so  _ pliant  _ in ways that seem only generous, only giving to those Hinata wants to give—Sakusa’s chest burns, at the idea of anyone else, of other hands and heated eyes and Hinata at the end—and slam into him with everything he has, over and over and over again until it starts blur where one ends and the other begins.

But Sakusa doesn’t, not yet, at least. He’s thinking, after all. He maps out Hinata’s body underneath him in case he can’t do it again. In case this all ends poorly and Sakusa’s left to fend and fight for what’s left. He feels every contour and dip and commits what it feels like to be with Hinata, to be  _ in  _ Hinata, surrounding and boxing and overwhelming every part of this young man who burns like his own miniature sun and have it all to himself.

(Because Sakusa Kiyoomi has a  _ problem _ , and it’s here, beneath him, around him, hands scorching up his back as Hinata tosses his head back and groans when he strokes that sensitive spot again, just right.)

Because Hinata Shoyo is like scattered pieces to a puzzle Sakusa keeps failing to finish. The pieces keep changing, in color and shine and he tries again and again to piece the picture together.

It shifts from Hinata Shoyo, that boy from before, and his own doubts about the bright-eyed young man and the memory of his soaring through a court before collapsing to his knees, feverish and defeated. It shifts from Hinata Shoyo, the frighteningly capable teammate. The steady, warm-eyed body on the court beside him, hands ready to pick up the slack wherever it falls and pull the rope to bring them higher and higher whenever he can.

To Hinata Shoyo, there in the MSBY Jackal’s shared dormitory, his smiling and beaming roommate in the room right beside his own. To Hinata, warmly welcoming him as he sits in the kitchen, already prepped with a meal and extra to spare for whoever makes their way down first. To Hinata, quiet and somewhere far, far and almost  _ warm  _ as he sits out in the grass along their patio, stretched out to soak in the sun and relax his muscles under Sakusa’s quietly watchful eyes.

To the quiet habits that suddenly scream loudly to Sakusa’s face, ringing like gongs and clapping their hands. The small things Hinata Shoyo does like breathing, these small pieces that make up a bigger part of his whole, that tell Sakusa more and more about the way he does whatever he can to make sure he can stand for as long as he wants on the court he loves the most.

These small things that start to plague Sakusa’s mind. These small things that start to fill his chest, that make his fingers curl when Hinata takes up a spot beside him to stretch before a match, unaware of Sakusa’s low eyes peering beneath the thick waves of his hair, taking him in.

And all of this—all of Hinata Shoyo as the literal and only explanation as to why Sakusa is here now, in Hinata’s room. Why Sakusa came in the first place, just  _ trying  _ to return the set of cds Hinata had loaned him in eager, bubbly excitement over their shared tastes.

Why the sight of Hinata, still warm, smelling of soap and linen and fresh out of the shower with that white t-shirt and loose shorts had turned Sakusa into the problem he was now, pushing him back into his sheets and whispering, low and quick for an outed escape Hinata decided, to Sakusa’s thundering heart, not to take.

“Kiyoomi,” Hinata says, warm and tight, breathing against his neck. Sakusa’s entire body shudders. He drinks in every piece of Hinata, running his reverent hands across him, watching his large fingers splay over his body, as though he could gather him all with a few handfuls. “Kiyoomi—faster, move… ah…  _ please.  _ I’m going… crazy!”

Sakusa’s fine with that. Hinata deserves it. He’s done essentially the same thing to Sakusa anyway.

Hinata deserves to be thinking about him as much as Sakusa’s already invested likewise.

Sakusa grips Hinata’s hip, his other hand sliding down, down between them and wrapping itself around Hinata’s weeping, hard cock. His hand envelopes it entirely, his thumb stroking the tip and Hinata keens, ankles digging into Sakusa’s sides in protest. He’s already come twice, since Sakusa made quick work of him, catching him off guard with hands and a hot, waiting mouth, but he thinks he can come again. Or another after that.

(He kind of wants to wreck him, in a clean, neat, clipped way. He wants to watch Hinata come undone until his eyes swim and he can hardly garble out any other name but his.)

Sakusa rolls his hips back, thrusting all the way through and setting up a faster, thorough pace. Hinata’s eyes slide open from their drowsy haze, mouth parting as he moans, baring his neck again. Sakusa drags his eyes over the skin, again and again, heavy lidded and filled with want and adoration at the way this body moves below him, with him,  _ for  _ him.

“Kiyoomi,” Hinata says. “K-Kiyoomi— _ ah _ , Kiyoomi! E-En—”

Hinata tries to stop Sakusa’s steady wrist from pumping any more. His fingers struggle to stop their onslaught, shoving weakly at Sakusa’s hand. “I-I’m—I’m good—”

Sakusa thrusts, hard and  _ deep _ . Hinata moans, back arching and Sakusa keeps going, watching his chest rise and fall as Hinata’s hands fly to his neck instead, locking around him as he tries to steady himself under Sakusa’s bruising pace.

“Don’t worry,” Sakusa says, low and thick. He feels Hinata freeze up, waiting for his words on bated breath. “I’ve got you.”

Hinata exhales, shaky. Sakusa drowns in the way his cheeks flush, all the way down to his neck and burning the tips of his ears. He almost loses it a bit when Hinata tightens around him, fingers scrambling against Sakusa’s neck, threatening to come unraveled at his words.

_ Good.  _ Sakusa thinks. He moves his hips, finally pressing his lips against Hinata’s neck and mouthing marks into his skin. Hinata groans, shaking as Sakusa still works his hand over his cock and thrusts into him, overwhelming him completely.  _ Good. _

(Because Sakusa Kiyoomi has a problem, and he’ll be damned if by the end of the night and into the waking morning he can’t solve it with Hinata’s help.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
